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Close Encounters of the Furry Kind
Sitting on my backyard deck as darkness falls;
I am listening, my mind quiet, the song of the night calls.
Peepers are doing their mating call into the night air;
As they begin a new life cycle with their torrid affair.
The sounds of the flitting bat wings as they hunt;
Suddenly, from the woods out back, I hear an eerie grunt.
I have heard the neighbors talking about a prowling bear;
My eyes sweep the darkened woods, I scan with a stare.
Silence, my hair standing up on the back of my neck;
The peepers are even still, as I stand now on my deck.
Nothing, stillness, quiet; not even a rustle of the leaves;
Peepers return to their romance, my senses deceives.
Two yellowish glowing reflections do I see looking at me;
Another chilling grunt, now moving away; gosh, I gotta pee.
My heartbeat races as the night's song continues to be sang;
My imagination runs to the yellow eyes and the big white fang.
I now wonder what this creature was, a bear or a wild banshee;
Swiftly I walk into the house, locking the door; yes, I did flee.
I have now experienced a close encounter of the furry kind;
Grabbing a brew from the fridge, I sit on the couch to unwind.
15May09
Poetry Ad-Free Upgrades
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